


(My heart is layers of scar.)

by softly (alexenglish)



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 15:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11488938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/softly
Summary: I have loved since you.  But when the new paint gets scratched, there you are underneath.





	(My heart is layers of scar.)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [c1trus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/c1trus/gifts).



> [a softer world project](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/asofterworld)

 

Practically the whole room lights up when the phone on the bedside tables goes. It takes a minute for Niall to realize it’s a  _call_  since the phone is on silent, but it doesn’t dim like it might after a notification so Niall carefully slides his arm out from under Harry and turns to grab it.

The contact photo on the screen makes Niall freeze up, heart thumping hard in his chest as he squints through the brightness. He’s up in a second, out the bedroom door before he can think about it, leaving Harry asleep in the center of the mattress with his limbs all spread out, imprint on the blankets where Niall was lying half under him, and --

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that he _really_ shouldn’t. It’s not a good idea, this isn’t even his  _phone_ , but he’s not always sensible, is he?

“Hullo?” he asks, probably too quiet, but it’s fine, there’s a response.

“I think I got it, babes,” Zayn says, voice low and soft, vowels thick and round. The last time Niall heard his voice was a short, perfunctory call congratulating Zayn on his second album. It hasn’t been ages, but Niall feels sick to his stomach over it just the same; nerves as always. “It just came to me, like. I dunno, was sitting here, you know how it is.” Zayn laughs, a sweet little whoosh of air. “Haz?”

“It’s not,” Niall says, tongue so thick he could choke on it. “It’s not, uhm, Harry.”

“Oh, who --  _Niall_?” It’s said so incredulously. Niall laughs, nervously.

“Yeah, soz.” Niall walks further away from the door, away from Harry. Out into Harry’s sitting room. It’s wicked cold since it’s winter in California and no one believes in a heated home. All Niall’s in is a pair of pants, goosebumps broke out all over his skin. He tucks his free hand under the opposite arm, hunches in on himself as he sits on the back of the sofa. “Phone was going off,” he lies. “Didn’t want to wake him.”

Zayn stays quiet. The silence is so weighted, Niall nearly hangs up the phone altogether. He could just turn it off, couldn’t he? In the morning, he could ask Harry why the hell Zayn Malik is calling at 2 o’clock in the goddamn morning, picking up in the middle of a previous conversation without saying  _hello_. 

“Where are you at?” Zayn asks slowly. "With Harry, I mean."

Niall knew what he meant. “LA,” he says, trying to remind himself it doesn’t matter. That he’s not doing anything wrong by being in Harry’s home, in Harry’s bed. That Zayn doesn’t have a part in it. That he  _shouldn't_. 

“Right down the street,” Zayn says. Niall can hear his smile.

“Yup.” Couple blocks away. Zayn is to Harry as Niall is to Louis. By proximity, at least. Niall and Louis never spent two years on and off, promising each other the world whilst breaking each other’s hearts over and over. 

Niall runs his hand over his face. 

“How’re you?” Zayn asks softly, after Niall’s got teeth marks in his tongue from biting down on all his words.

“Great,” Niall admits. It’s been months and he’s done so much, but he can’t think of a single personal thing to tell Zayn that’s not _sometimes I miss you so much I feel like I'm drowning_ , and _most times it's easier not to miss you at all_. “Got a break from shows and such.” He shrugs even though Zayn can’t see him. “That’s the sum.” 

“Always keeping busy.”

“Of course,” Niall agrees.

There’s a another beat of silence. “So, you’re...” Zayn trails off. Niall keeps breathing as steadily as he can, fingertips pressed into the thick seam of the sofa back so hard they turn white. “You and, uh, Harry. Having a sleepover, like?”

Niall laughs. His chest aches, hot with guilt. “Something like that,” he hums. 

“Something?” Zayn prompts. He’s dead curious, Niall can tell, but Niall doesn’t want to be the one to say it. Doesn't think he should have to, all things considered.

 _Shagging your ex-boyfriend, hope that’s alright_. “How long have you been working on the song?” Niall asks instead. “The one you called about.”

“A few months,” Zayn says carefully. “Been giving me problems. The hook’s wrong, you know?”

“I do,” Niall agrees. Niall wishes he could say he didn't know why Zayn would call _Harry_ about it, considering the type of music Zayn makes, but he can't. He knows exactly why Zayn would call Harry about a song despite the genre disparity. Knows it’s an excuse without having to be told. That’s how the two of them are.

2 AM phone calls, and Zayn doesn’t even know that Harry and Niall are... Whatever they are.

“Babe?” 

Niall turns towards the bedroom. The light’s on in the master bath, giving Harry a glowing backdrop where he’s stood in the doorway of the bedroom -- hair on end, love bites all over his chest nearly as dark as his tattoos. He’s starkers, miles of skin and lean muscle, dick thick and soft in the cradle of his hips. Niall goes warm from appreciation. 

“Hey, did I wake you?” Niall asks, barely pulling the phone away from his mouth.

“Had to wee,” Harry says, shoving his hand through his hair as he comes over. His whole body is space heater warm as he slides his arms around Niall’s tummy and hooks his chin over Niall’s shoulder. 

“Why do you have my phone, love?” he asks curiously. 

“S’Zayn,” Niall says. In his ear, Zayn hums in acknowledgement. Niall feels Harry go still. It’s barely there, but he feels it. Feels the way Harry’s chest expands against his back as Harry takes a bracing breath. 

Niall hands the phone over. Harry doesn’t move, keeps one arm around Niall’s waist as he takes it.

“Hey, Zayn,” he says, voice low and rough and sleepy. “Alright?”

“Yeah, sorry I called,” Zayn answers. Niall can hear pretty clearly. He wants to pull away, give them space. “I forgot normal people have bedtimes, like.” He laughs. Harry laughs, too, fingertips pressing into Niall’s soft side. 

“Always do,” Harry says, biting off the end of the agreement. Where an endearment would be, Niall’s sure. 

“It was about the song,” Zayn says. The Song. “Finishing up. Is it okay if I call tomorrow? At a reasonable time.”

Harry laughs again. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, sounding cautious. Niall rolls his eyes. 

“ _Yes_ , Zayn.” Niall can tell Harry’s smiling, just from his tone of voice. At least someone is amused and endeared by this whole situation. “You can call tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees. “See ya. Tell Nialler bye.”

Harry stays put after lowering the phone from his ear, clearing out notifications and turning off his screen. Niall doesn’t apologize for picking up the phone. Harry won’t expect him to. 

“Come on,” Harry says, finally, pulling Niall’s waist until they’re both standing.

Harry doesn’t look at him as he putters around, picking up their discarded clothes from earlier, digging out Niall’s phone before tossing everything in his hamper. He plugs both their phones into his fancy charging station on his desk and turns out the light. 

It’s dark then, whole room plunged in it. Niall waits with his heartbeat in his ears as Harry gets into bed and under the covers, scooting so that their knees knock as they curve towards each other. They end up with their ankles stacked. Even in the dark, Niall can see that Harry’s looking at him. 

“S’just a song,” he says, big hand curving over Niall’s side, hips nudging closer. His cheeks are sharpened by the shadows, but his eyes are heavy and soft.

“Yeah,” Niall agrees. 

Except with them, it’s not  _just_  a song. It’s never  _just_  a song. Not when every song is a carved piece of your heart, a little bit of yourself for other people to see. 

Harry presses a kiss to Niall’s mouth -- his top lip, his bottom lip. He tightens his grip on Niall’s waist, slides his thigh between Niall’s. Pulls him in, in, in. Distracts him. 

It works. Keeps them from talking about it. 

There’s a lot they don’t talk about, Niall thinks, as Harry sucks a love bite right below Niall’s collar, palms his cock through his pants whilst Harry’s smears sticky on the inside of Niall’s leg. 

They don’t talk about Zayn. They don’t talk about the songs on Harry’s first album that are about Zayn, or the songs that will inevitably be on the second album. They don’t talk about before Zayn left, about Harry-and-Zayn, and the way they were with each other. 

Niall spent a long time convinced they were going to make it, even through all the shit. Long term, that was them. The fights and the hurt, he thought they were going to come out on the other side like an exception to every rule. 

Except Niall’s the one on the other side -- with Harry’s mouth around his cock, watching the slow way he rolls his hips into the mattress like he’s too lazy to properly get himself off. Niall’s the one who gets to hold Harry after they both come, breathless and sweaty and grinning. Harry pressing kisses to the hinge of Niall’s jaw, and Niall's mind reeling despite the last few months, despite being the one in Harry's bed.  

Niall still doesn’t know how he got here, why he’s here when -- When part of him still thinks Zayn and Harry might make it. Especially now that he knows there are phone calls in the middle of the night. Now that he knows the way Harry smiles when he’s on the phone with Zayn -- same as he always did before. Now that he knows there's Harry and there's Niall, but there's Zayn, too. Different than before, but --

There’s a lot they don’t talk about. Even though Niall knows full well Harry’s the type of person to dwell on  _what if_ s. And knows there’s words written in those journals that he would never want to read. And knows there’s parts of Harry that still want Zayn -- parts that will always want Zayn. 

There’s no denying Harry’s haunted by it all, but Niall’s never felt like there was a ghost between them until tonight. 

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/162932527197/my-heart-is-layers-of-scar-niallharry-past)


End file.
